The Girl Next Door
by Team Moriarty
Summary: Jane Distel's not an ordinary girl, not at all. She can sense when something's going to happen, it's like a gut feeling. Jane Distel moved to London on July 1st, 2013 into flat 223B. When an unexpected competition starts to arise, threats are being thrown in every direction, Jane decides to figure it all out by herself, despite the suggested help of Sherlock Holmes. AU/OC/OOC.
1. Jane Distel

-Chapter 1-

It all started when she moved into London, England on July 1st, 2013.

Her name's Jane Distel. Jane Distel's five foot four, one hundred and twenty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes and a fair complexion. She's your average girl, or so you'd think.

When you pass her on the street, you notice how calm and concentrated she looks. But you think nothing of it. Sometimes, she thinks that everyone fears her because she's always so sullen, so calm and so discrete. But she doesn't want you to be scared. She doesn't want you to avoid her. She's just Jane Distel; your average girl.

But that's what you think.

Jane Distel moved to London, England on July 1st, 2013. She carried one suitcase with her; all her belongings fitting into that suitcase and her Jansport backpack.

She moved to flat 223B, Baker Street. The landlady, Mrs Hudson, was a friend of her mother's cousin and gladly gave the empty suite to her for a low price every month. Jane, as she isn't fussy, took the flat contently.

Jane made her way up the stairs and unlocked her door. She had the room furnished before she arrived. Her white leather sofa's there, her round glass coffee table, her forty-two inch flat screen TV's there, her stainless steel fridge, oven and microwave is in place and even her bedroom's finished with a queen sized bed, a closet, her bean bag chair, her desk and her vanity drawers.

She had everything set and done. Now all she has to do is unpack and register at the police department.

Oh yes, didn't I forget to tell you?

Jane Distel's a private investigator.

The best one in the business.


	2. Time Bomb

-Chapter 2-

Jane made her way inside the police department building. Odd looks were thrown at her direction. Jane could practically read their facial expressions.

"Who is she?"

"What is she doing here?"

Jane walked through the building, through the offices like she already knew every part of the building. She made her way to the office, where she was pretty sure her employer was in. She knocked the door once and heard a faint 'Come in'. She let herself into the particularly small office.

"Who must you be?" The salt and pepper haired man inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"Jane Distel, sir." Jane smiled sweetly.

Jane immediately observed the curious looking man in front of her. Greying hair, tired brown eyes, dark purple circle encircling his eyes; he hasn't slept properly in a while. He had a little frown on his face, probably out of confusion or concentration.

"Miss Distel!" He exclaimed, as his eyebrows shot up in realization. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person! Your previous workers have told me you're remarkable on the field."

Jane grinned easily at him. "Have you?"

"Of course! Oh," He huffed. "How rude of me. My name's Gregory Lestrade, chief."

Jane held out a small, soft hand. "Nice to meet you as well."

Lestrade clasped his hands together. "Well, I guess we must get you prepared now, certainly?"

* * *

"We have a case!" An average height, dark-skinned, curly-haired woman came bursting through Lestrade's office doors.

Jane stood up almost immediately from the seat she had taken. Jane remained calm as the panicked looking sergeant gave all the details to Lestrade quickly. Lestrade waved her off and immediately started tapping on his cell phone.

"Oh," He looked up at Jane awkwardly. "Excuse me."

"Anything I can do to help?" Jane queried, her head cocking to the side in curiosity. "I _am _a doctor and an investigator."

Lestrade's eyebrows shot up. "A doctor, as well?"

Jane frowned. "Didn't you know about that?"

Lestrade shook his head in embarrassment. Surely you should only hire someone you've done a complete background check on if you want them to be part of the force, right? Not in this case, it seems that Lestrade had missed a very important detail. Having an investigator who is also a doctor is more useful than you ought to think. Not only do you not need to hire a separate examiner to determine whether or not the death or crime scene of a case was caused by physical or internal medical matters, but having and investigator mashed up into one person at the same time also saves quite a bit of time for detectives and investigators to come in and take a look, too.

Lestrade flushed deeply. "It seems we might have missed that fact."

"It's a good thing you hired another investigator, then, isn't it?" Jane winked.

* * *

Lestrade let Jane take a look at the case that Donovan told Lestrade about no more than fifteen minute ago.

Jane, wearing her black skinny jeans, a blue t-shirt and her converse, made her look younger than she really is. Disapproving looks were thrown in all directions as Lestrade escorted Jane to the crime scene.

Jane shrugged on those hideous suits and walked into the small room.

There on the floor, lay a teenager.

Jane's mind went into overdrive.

Teenager. Female. Five foot two. Heritage; Canadian. Canadian wristband, old, knitted with thin string, on her right hand. Right handed. Facial appearance. Fair skinned, blond, mid-waist length.

Jane pried the teenager's eyelids gently open. Irises, pale blue.

Jane's eye caught something beneath the teenager. She gently lifted the teenager's sweater, to reveal a mass pile of yellow, white, blue and red cords all mangled together. Jane frowned intently as she lifted the sweater even more, to reveal the source of the red blinking.

Time bomb. One minute, three seconds. Jane's eyes widened.

"Run!" She shouted, ripping off the blue hazard suit and booking it out through the door.

The police officers were wildly staring at her, questioning her with their eyes.

She whipped her head back the building, where she realized Lestrade was still in there, as well a couple other people.

At the top of her lungs, she screamed. "RUN! LESTRADE!"

Lestrade's head turned towards her to meet her frantic eyes, her wild, terrified eyes. Realizing that Jane wasn't kidding when she said to run, he ran out, so did the others that were in the building with him. Thankfully, he was out of the building.

Jane had been counting. Three, two, one...

"TAKE COVER!" She screamed, ducking towards the ground.

The building exploded, loudly. Everyone in a hundred's meter distance screamed, taking cover, too. The building burst into flames, the windows shattering and giant glass pieces were flown everywhere. The wood from the building was split into pieces, scattered everywhere. The building was up in flames, the foundation already gone and had turned into a charcoal black.

Jane looked up at the building, the reflection of the flames burning in her eyes.

Someone had planned this. This was a planned scheme.

It was up to Jane to figure out not only who, but _why._


	3. Encountering Holmes and Watson

-Chapter 3-

The fire trucks arrived on scene and immediately begun taking the flames out. Jane Distel was escorted back to the police department head quarters. Jane didn't protest, she didn't need to. She had all the evidence printed into her mind. It's pretty useful having a photographic memory. Whatever you see, it's permanently imprinted into your mind.

It's not technically a photographic memory. Jane Distel has hyperthymesia.

Hyperthymesia is a condition where you remember every single aspect of your life. You remember every second, every minute of every day for the rest of your life. You cannot forget what you have done, said or dreamed about. It is still unknown how such a condition starts.

Though, Jane has it to her advantage. It is very useful to have for a doctor and an investigator.

Jane took a seat in the office, clasping her hands together as she absentmindedly looked down at the floor.

"How did you know that there was going to be an explosion?" Lestrade questioned, scratching the back of his neck.

Jane looked up. "Didn't you have officers examine the body before I arrived?"

"Yes." Lestrade nodded.

"Fire them." Jane muttered, irritably.

Lestrade frowned at Jane incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"Fire them." She repeated, not a hint of sarcasm or teasing in her voice. "They didn't do their job thoroughly."

"I'm not going to fire them." Lestrade shook his head.

Jane's eyes jumped to meet Lestrade's tired ones. "If you didn't ask me to come into that building today, then all of you would have died. There was a time bomb strapped to the teenager's chest. If you bothered to fully examine her instead to just choose what to see, then you could have disabled the time bomb long enough to get some real evidence to how exactly she died. Though, with me, that won't be necessary. I have all the evidence I need." Jane explained, in under one minute.

"You sound like Sherlock Holmes." Lestrade commented, mostly to himself.

"Pardon me?" Jane said, catching the words he had meant to say privately.

"It's nothing, Miss Distel." Lestrade tried to hide the comment behind a smile.

"Who must this Sherlock Holmes be?" Jane questioned, furrowing her brows.

"Usually, we'd call him in for things like this. But, I decided to give you the case instead. And it paid off immensely. Not to mention, you are both doctor and investigator. Sherlock Holmes is only-" Lestrade stopped in his tracks and averted his eyes towards the door.

Jane spun around, noticing a dark reflection in the glass wall behind Lestrade.

A tall figure hovered in the doorway, followed by a vastly shorter man. The taller one had dark, curly hair with insanely beautiful eyes. The color is almost undeterminable, whereas there is a little bit of every color in them. As for the shorter man, he has blond hair with brown eyes. His features made him look really innocent and vulnerable, but Jane knew never to judge a book my its cover.

"Sherlock." Lestrade greeted the stranger informally.

Jane raised an eyebrow. So this must be the Sherlock Holmes that Lestrade was comparing her to. Well, it wasn't a complete insult to her mind.

"I heard there was a case." Sherlock muttered, furrowing his brows. "Involving a death followed by an explosion. How come no one bothered to call me? This is right up my alley!"

"I've decided to give Miss Distel, here, a crack at the case. And she did rather well. Saving the lives of our workers as well as my own." Lestrade said gleefully. Jane didn't twitch, she didn't acknowledge the high statue that Lestrade was giving her. She kept observing the obviously insulted Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock gave her a quick check up.

"You still could have texted me." Sherlock mumbled, irritably.

"Who told you about this case?" Lestrade inquired, folding his arms across his chest.

"Bloody Anderson!" Sherlock shouted. "He was gloating about how I missed such a case."

"Your assistance wasn't necessary. We had it under control." Lestrade defended the team.

Sherlock's eyes were wild now, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Jane knew that look. It's that look people get before they were ready to burst out in frustration or annoyance. They were ready to spit whatever challenge that could be conjured up in the human mind, just to prove a point. It's a waste of energy, but she could never convince anyone to stay quiet rather than shout insults.

"And did she find out who did that? How the deceased died? How the explosion occurred? _Why _the explosion occurred? Did she gather all the evidence?" Sherlock challenged, making his little blond friend flinch as Sherlock's questions flowed out of his mouth quicker than expected. He clearly was not acknowledging Jane's presence in the room.

Lestrade hesitated before answering, weighing each question individually.

"Jane...?" Lestrade pleaded for assistance.

Jane took a deep breath and started to speak.

"Deceased was murdered. The teenager was strapped to a time bomb, I found out about that one minute and three seconds before it was set to explode. The explosion occurred, I believe, because someone planned it to happen. I believe someone wanted to send a message. Although, the source of all this is still unknown. I have all the information and evidence stored in my mind." Jane explained, startling Sherlock as her explanation covered most of the ground questions he had.

Sherlock stepped forward, clearly interested now.

"Are you sure you remember everything? The human photographic memory is only about 62 percent accurate at best! What did you see? Tell me what did you see!" Sherlock questioned.

"I don't think you need to worry whether or not I remember the evidence." Jane shrugged, taking a step away from Sherlock and towards Lestrade who was eyeing both of them, fascinated and the high IQ in the room.

"I have to worry! This is still a case that I let myself into and Lestrade is not protesting which clearly states that he has no problem with me prying into this investigation. Now, tell me the evidence! I highly doubt you even looked at the body correctly, mind you the rest of the room. You probably don't even remember much anymore!" Sherlock wailed. "The evidence is all gone, with the explosion. This will be the first case I _ever _that I haven't solved!"

"Sherlock!" The shorter, blond man warned.

"Could you blame me, John? Obviously she's an amateur!" Sherlock retorted.

Jane half-smiled at Sherlock's quick judgment.

"And I thought you'd be the deductive type." Jane shrugged, folding her hand together.

"I am." Sherlock sneered, his fingers fidgeting with each other.

"But aren't you so quick to judge?" Jane challenged, cocking her head to the side.

"What?" Sherlock queried, genuinely puzzled now.

As Sherlock so recently addressed the shorter man as John, John looked like his mind was in some sort of mass enigma. He looked just as stunned and confused as Sherlock is. Not so much as Jane's backbone, but at Sherlock's expression.

"I'm a private investigator as well as a doctor. I have hyperthymesia, if you don't know what that is, it's a rare condition that only 22 other people in the world have. It means that I remember everything that I have ever seen, done, heard, touched, smelt and tasted. I can remember what time I woke up this morning, the first thought that popped into my mind when I woke up and I already remember all the streets I've been to since I've moved here. Of course, this means I can remember the crime scene." Jane abruptly stopped, as John's mouth audibly popped open.

Sherlock's brows furrowed even deeper. "Remarkable." He commented.

"She's like you, Sherlock," Lestrade began, and Sherlock scowled. "except she's a doctor and a hyperthymesiac in the mix."

Jane noticed Sherlock shift weight from his right to his left foot. There was a sort of...determination in his eyes.

Sherlock shifted his gaze to Jane, completely scanning her from head to toe before shooting deadly glares back at Lestrade.

"Text me if anything new comes up." He said, but it nearly sounded more threatening than polite.

Jane turned to face Lestrade.

"We might have a problem with this one."


	4. Message Sent

**For those of you who don't know how to pronounce Jane's last name, it is pronounced as "Diss-tell". It could also have been written as "Distelle".  
The origin of her last name is German and Dutch.  
If any of you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me in 'review' form.  
**

* * *

-Chapter 4-

You could say that Sherlock Holmes was a little bit upset that Lestrade had somewhat found a _better _replacement.

Why wouldn't Lestrade want to hire Jane Distel? She's young, pretty, smart and not to mention she's both a doctor _and _an investigator. Throw in a dash of hyperthymesia and you got the world's best crime scene investigator.

But calling Sherlock Holmes a little bit upset would be a huge understatement. Right now, Sherlock Holmes wants to prove himself and get him back to the top.

When Sherlock walked into the police department building with John trailing behind him like a shadow, Sergeant Donovan smirked as well as Anderson.

"Looks like you've been replaced!" Donovan sneered, and Anderson laughed at that. Sherlock didn't understand what she meant by that at first, but now, it perfectly made sense.

There was no way Lestrade was going to fire Jane Distel now. No, not after offering her a job which meant she had to move to a different country. And especially not after saving all those lives back at the little apartment with the incidental time bomb.

Sherlock knew that that would be hard to top. But he knew that Jane's work was only halfway done. All that really needs to be figured out was _who _was behind all this. And it puzzled him greatly, knowing that he wasn't there to see the evidence for himself. This would be hard to figure out on his own.

Sherlock knew he needed to spy on Jane, to listen in on her conversations, in order to get anything done. Maybe then and only _maybe_, could he have a shot at cracking the case wide open.

John watched uneasily as Sherlock paces back and forth in their little living room. For the past twenty minutes, Sherlock has been murmuring to himself like a madman, and frankly, John was kind of worried.

"Sherlock, at least sit down and think aloud, you're making me dizzy." John complained, as he tapped away on his laptop, occasionally shooting glances in Sherlock's direction.

"You don't have to watch!" Sherlock snapped, obviously in a deep train of thought.

"Yes, but I can't help what my peripherals see." John interjected.

"I just don't understand!" Sherlock exasperated, groaning loudly.

John flinched. "That's a first."

Sherlock shot him a warning glare. "I don't understand why Lestrade didn't call me in."

John shrugged in response. "Maybe he thinks that this Jane has potential."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That's _not _what he was thinking."

"What did he think-oh..." John realized, pressing his lips in a thin line.

"He should have texted me in at the least. What if she wasn't as good as he thought? Why didn't he just_texted _me in anyways?!" Sherlock nearly shouted.

"Sherlock?" John called, calmly. "Would you like some tea?" He suggested, John knew tea was always the way to go.

Sherlock smiled small. "That would be lovely."

John left the room to put the kettle on the stove and wait for it to boil. In the mean time, Sherlock had his phone in hand, punching in Mycroft's phone number.

_I need you to do a full background check on Jane Distel.  
It's urgent._

_-SH_

Sherlock wavered his finger over the send button, and noticed John was coming back in the room.

He didn't hesitate as watched the screen.

_Message Sent. _


	5. Investigating - Annoying Encounters

-Chapter 5-

Jane was on the move.

She had reviewed the crime scene in her mind more than enough. There was almost nothing that led to any real break through. All Jane knew was that the subject was poisoned beforehand. It appeared to be a homicide at first, but once you looked at all the evidence, it made more sense if someone killed the teenager instead.

She darted out of the police department, running back to the scene of the crime. It wasn't far from the station.

She made it there within ten minutes, noting that the flames had gone out but the general structure of the building was completely gone. There were bystanders, some were crying, Jane knew that those were some of the residents of the burnt apartment.

Police were still there, and some of Lestrade's workers were back on the scene.

"Excuse me! Behind the caution tape, please!" An irritable, white man shouted.

Jane glanced over her shoulder and did a quick check.

Five foot ten, around sixty five kilograms in weight give or take a couple of kilos, pale complexion, gel restricted hair and mean eyes.

Jane redirected her gaze to the burnt building.

"I said behind the caution tape, Miss!" The same mean-eyed guy with a hazard suit on shouted, more forcefully this time.

"My name's Jane Distel." Jane muttered, only loud enough for the annoyed man to hear.

"And is that supposed to mean something to me?" He queried, rudely.

"I'm part of your force." Jane snapped, growing tired of this man's hostility.

The man frowned. "I've never heard of you."

"Maybe not." Jane shrugged, noticing a little alleyway at the side of the building.

"Do you have proof?" The man pressed, staring down the five foot four Miss Distel.

"Don't need any." Jane muttered, crossing the street and going towards the alleyway.

Jane prowled every corner of the alley, thinking there might be some sort of evidence thrown here somewhere. Now, where would be an easy disposal for evidence? The trash bin, of course.

Jane noticed a bottle on the ground, tucked away behind some grass that was growing through the pavement. She picked it up with her sleeve . It was an emptied pill bottle with the prescription sticker scratched off roughly. There was a liquid substance in it, filled halfway. It looked like it had been tampered with, with the scratched around the edges of the bottle and the nearly invisible finger prints around the circumference of the bottle.

Jane tucked the evidence into her pocket, mentally noting that she had to go to a chemist and figure out what substance must be inside the bottle.

It indeed is a liquid, but clearly it isn't water. The substance was a little bit yellowish, but definitely wasn't urine or apple juice. Jane thought of it amusing to why anyone would ever fill an emptied pill bottle with apple juice.

"Get out of there!" The same, bloody annoying man shouted at Jane, who huffed.

"Who are you?" Jane inquired.

"To you, Anderson, nothing else." He sneered.

Jane quirked an eyebrow and a malicious half grin appeared on her face.

"Since we'll be working together, I thought it best to get to know you." Jane explained, pushing past Anderson and back to the front of the building.

"That's it! I'm calling going to ask if you're even registered." Anderson threatened, making his way to the police cruiser.

Jane watched in amusement before going over to the crying residents.

"Excuse me?" Jane inquired politely, giving them a sweet smile. It seemed to put them at ease as they calmed down drastically. "May I ask you a few questions?"

One of them stepped forward, their eyes puffy and swollen. "I'll talk to you."

Jane looked at the poor woman with pity. Horrible, how their home was destroyed and they were left with nearly nothing left to salvage from their completely destroyed homes.

"Thank you." Jane took the woman aside.

"First off, my name's Jane Distel and I'm here to investigate the explosion that had occurred not too long ago." Jane began, holding out a hand. The woman shook it, smile a little bit in return.

"Emily Dela-Hart." The woman said.

The woman seemed to be about twenty-five years old, five foot three with brown hair and hazel eyes. She was obviously a little bit shy, but courageous enough to speak.

"Is it alright if I call you Emily?" Jane inquired.

Emily nodded. "Yes."

"Alright, Emily," Jane addressed her. "Have you noticed any suspicious activity in the past few days?"

Much to Jane's disappointment, Emily shook her head. "Not that I can remember. Same old, same old. Same people come in and out of the building everyday. No one had any conflicts with each other. Actually, we're all acquaintances."

Jane nodded. "And in the past few hours, anything odd happened?"

Emily frowned for a while, deep in thought before biting her lip absentmindedly. "Not really, no. Not that I can tell."

"What were you doing before you were all evacuated?" Jane queried, making a mental note that Anderson was deliberately lingering nearby to listen in on their conversation.

"I was watching the telly, catching up with the news. But it's kind of hard, our wiring isn't the best." Emily replied.

"Alright." Jane nodded, frowning slightly. This seemed to be a bit of dead end.

"Our landlady had someone hired someone to fix our fuzzy screens." Emily said.

Jane's eyes widened slightly. "Were they here today?"

Emily thought for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I remember passing him on my way to get mail this morning."

"Do you know his name?" Jane asked, studying Emily Dela-Hart's features.

Almost immediately, Emily shook her head. "No."

"Can you give me a description?" Jane queried.

"Okay-but shouldn't you be writing all this down?" Emily asked, noticing the Jane wasn't holding a notepad and pen.

Jane smiled. She loved it when people asked that question.

"I have a brilliant memory." Jane smiled.

"Okay. He's tall, dark haired, fair skinned with dark eyes. He's always wearing something black, despite if it's sunny or not. His eyes are kind of scary to look at, just the way he looks at you, I guess. I don't know, I get a funny feeling every time I'm around him." Emily explained, shrugging towards the end.

"Thanks, Emily Dela-Hart. You've been of good help." Jane grinned widely, holding out her hand again. Emily shook it twice. "And I'm really sorry about your apartment, but the police department will arrange something for you guys temporarily. I'll make them." Jane winked, walking away.

"You're not from here, are you, Miss Distel?" Emily called out, making Jane turn around to face her again.

"What gives you that idea?" Jane questioned, musing.

"Your accent. You're not from here." Emily stated.

Jane shook her head. "You're right." Then gave her a sly smile. "I'm not."


	6. Investigating - Prescription Bottle

-Chapter 6-

"Okay, so you're part of the force." Anderson muttered, sassy. "But don't let that get to your head. You're no more important than any one of us. We don't need another Sherlock."

"Don't compare me to him." Jane easily interjected.

"Why? Does that bug you?" Anderson questioned, clearly amused.

"No." Jane snapped, and she kept walking away.

"I think it does!" Anderson sung.

Jane turned around, her eyes glowering as she fought back the urge to punch him square in the jaw.

"Don't you have somewhere _else _to be?!" Jane nearly shouted, making Anderson flinch in return.

He didn't speak, he just turned around and walked away with a surprised expression on his face. Jane's all about the business, if you're just in it to goof around, then you better quit because you're wasting your time. People's lives are at risk, and then there's people like Anderson who decide to tease members of the same force.

How immature.

Jane returned to the police department and immediately ran straight the Lestrade's desk. Lestrade had become Jane's go-to person for questions and such. Plus, she doesn't really know anyone else and she really doesn't want to.

Jane knocked on Lestrade's office door, and a faint 'Come in' could be heard. Jane opened the door and sat down in the chair. Lestrade was rubbing his temples lightly.

"We have gotten another case. This time, we thoroughly checked the body. And another time bomb was found on time. The body had been brought into a Forensic Pathologist Laboratory. Jane, do you think you could take a look at this body? We strongly believe that this was another targeted attack and that all these murders are linked to one another." Lestrade asked, his eyes fixed onto his desk.

"Alright, I just need to know how to get there." Jane replied.

She had grown excited for all these new cases. Not only were they fascinating to take a look at, but she's also exploring the city of London.

"I also need to know where the nearest chemistry lab is." She asked, scrutinizing the detective inspector.

Lestrade looked up awkwardly. "I'll get someone to take you where you need to go."

Within a few minutes, Jane was already on her way to the Forensic Pathologist Laboratory. She was alone in the back seat of the car. Ten minutes went by, and the car finally pulled to a stop in front of what she knew was the Forensic Pathologist Laboratory.

After a few questions from workers asking her who she was, she finally was escorted to the lab, where a reddish haired, innocent looking woman was standing next to a dead body covered with a light blue sheet.

The woman looked up as Jane entered.

"My name's Jane Distel." Jane greeted, holding out her hand. The woman hesitantly shook her hand.

"Molly Hooper." The woman replied shyly.

"I was sent by detective inspector Lestrade to examine the most recently sent dead body." Jane replied, walking past the pathologist and standing next to the victimized body.

"We haven't gotten the chance to take a thorough check of the body." Molly timidly explained.

Jane gave her a wistful smile. "That's okay."

There was mumbling in the corridor, behind the door. With every passing second, Jane could hear whoever it was creeping closer and closer. Obviously, whoever was speaking wasn't alone. When it came close enough to identify the person by voice, Jane winced.

"Oh, no..." Jane sighed and Molly gave her a confused look.

The double doors swung open and two men waltzed right in. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Jane rolled her eyes. Couldn't they mind their own business and just give up already? She has everything under control.

"What are you doing here?!" Sherlock shrieked.

"Working." Jane explained, directing Molly to uncover the deceased human,

Jane slapped on some blue, latex gloves and began to poke and prod the teenaged boy's body. She lifted the eyelids. The irises were a pale blue, just like the teenager's had been. It was slightly blood shot, which was odd considering the human was dead. There seemed to be no external injuries but there were red lines from where the time bomb had been strapped to. So, it hadn't been long since the body had been sent here. Jane wondered if this person has been identified.

"Was there any I.D. on him?" Jane queried.

"N-"

"Don't answer that question, Molly!" Sherlock interrupted.

"Why don't you just leave? This is my case." Jane wailed, now completely irritated by this persistent man.

"I don't take orders from you, Miss Distel." Sherlock snapped, brushing passed her swiftly.

John mouthed 'Sorry' when Sherlock wasn't looking and Jane gave him a small smile in return. What confused her, though, was how Sherlock Holmes knew her last name without having to tell him. Remembering when they encountered in Lestrade's office, she remembers them having a brief conversation, but there were no introductions whatsoever. She doesn't even know John's last name.

Jane huffed, swiftly taking out her cell phone to text Lestrade about this.

_I don't remember you telling me that  
Sherlock Holmes was going to be here._

-JD

She put her phone back into her pocket, knowing that Lestrade was busy doing something else. She'll just have to wait patiently for him to reply back.

"Miss Hooper, if you'd be so kind to put the deceased away for now until the room is cleared of unauthorized personnel." Jane directed Molly, who made a thin line with her lips, unsure if she should follow through with those directions.

Sherlock glanced over her shoulder, glaring at Jane. He despised her already.

"Molly, don't listen to her. I'm authorized, I have been here before by Lestrade's referral-"

"_He's _the one to send me here." Jane retorted, quickly darting her eyes to Molly who nodded her head once and began to wrap the deceased back up.

Sherlock incredulously whirled around. "Molly, don't listen to her!"

Molly looked up at Sherlock apologetically, but didn't listen to him.

Jane was serious, not a hint of amusement were in her features now. Her brown eyes were threatening and her mind was growing tired of Sherlock's determined attitude. She was only doing as she was told, nothing more, and this man decides to stomp all over her and attempt to take over her job, which she couldn't afford to let him do.

"If you have any problems, _Mr Holmes_, take it up with Lestrade. Not me. I'm merely his employee. Now, _leave_." Jane demanded, a dark edge creeping into her usual subtle tone.

John stepped forward and started tugging at Sherlock's arm.

"Let's go, Sherlock. We're wasting our time here." John tried to reason, but it was failing.

Sherlock irritably shook John's grip off and stalked off towards the door.

He looked past him for a moment, letting John walk ahead. He didn't mutter anything, just gave her one scrutinizing look.

Jane turned back to Molly, who began to uncover the body. Just then, Jane's phone began to buzz erratically. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the message. It was from Lestrade.

_He wasn't supposed to be there.  
I did not instruct him to go.  
I'll have a word with him.  
Thank you for your work, Miss  
Distel._

_It is greatly appreciated._

_-GL_

Jane smiled, satisfied.

"Now, let's have a look at that body, shall we?"


	7. Imbecile

-Chapter 7-

"Looks like there's no physical trauma to the head..." Jane mutters imbrilliantly while Molly Hooper jots down notes onto her little cahier.

Jane poked and prodded the human body, looking for any marks, scratches or uncanny looking places. But there seemed to be none. The only thing she could see were the fading red lines from the previously attached time bomb and the light blue irises that looked to be indenticaly to the previous teenager body. What also intrigued her, were how young the victims were. Both seemed to be no more than seventeen or eighteen years old.

"Yeup, definitely poisoned." Jane concluded to herself. She couldn't think up of any othe rational reasoning. She has read every book, heard all the symptoms while in training - and surely, she remembers them all - and nothing seemed to match up other than poisoning. Someone's definitely playing the king card here, a bold move. It's hard to poison someone, either they weren't aware of if or it was someone close to them that did all this.

Molly didn't say anything. Molly did have her doubts, though, but she wasn't going to let Jane know that. She was far too shy to stand up for herself, a great weakness to her aid.

Jane took her blue latex gloves off and threw them in the nearby trash bin.

"I'll be back tomorrow to re-examine the body after you're done dissecting it." Jane informed her, quickly jotting down her cell phone number on a sticky note and handing it to Molly, who hesitantly took it from her.

"Text me when you're done. I'd like to know your findings." Jane smiled, and Molly grinned back.

"Okay, will do." Molly said.

Jane left the Pathology Lab, and jumped back into her awaiting taxi, who drove her straight to a nearby chemistry laboratory. Jane was really impressed with the city's convenience to her. It seems like London has everything she needs, which is perfect.

She hopped out of the taxi, telling the driver that she won't be long, and let herself inside the building. The same routine had gone by, she was questioned a few times, asked for some proof and when Jane couldn't give any proof, she told them to talk to the police department and ask for Lestrade, which surely would clear things up. She didn't even bother to wait for them to do so, as she kept walking down the hallway, as if she knew where to go.

Jane's hand carefully slipped into her jacket pocket, feeling for the prescription bottle the found in the alleyway. But there was nothing there, just emptiness. Her heart began to pick up speed, this could have been some major evidence! Without even thinking, she had subconsciously made her way to the chemistry lab, where she saw none other than Sherlock Holmes sitting behind glass jars and empty tubes. He was holding something that looked oddly familiar to her, and she was burning with fury when she realized it was her prescription bottle.

"Imbecile." She muttered under her breath, stalking towards Sherlock who immediately averted his eyes to latch onto hers. John was sitting two feet away, exchanging curious glances back and forth between the two.

"You stole that from me!" Jane accused, her brown eyes piercing into Sherlock's, who remained unreadable.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips. "It's police evidence, I believe we call it _borrowing_."

"Borrowing or not, I had it first." Jane hissed, attempting to grab to bottle away, but Sherlock jerked his hand away, nearly hitting John.

"What are we, seven years old? It's borrowing, Miss Distel, I'm part of the force, I could use the evidence how I please." Sherlock retorted, continuing on with his work.

"You're not an _official _member." Jane interjected, not liking this one bit.

"I'm a Consulting Detective, the only one in the world."

"You made that up."

"Precisely."

"You can't just make up a job." Jane frowned, eyeing the orange cylindrical container.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "I believe I just did."

Jane didn't have an answer for that, she huffed loudly, took one look at John who apologetically glanced back at her, and then she attempted to turn around and walk away.

When she knew that Sherlock thought she'd be leaving, she hurriedly whirled around, leapt over the table and snatched the liquid filled bottle and dashed out the laboratory. Remembering exactly how she came to be there, she followed her way back and made her way outside. She looked behind her, seeing John and Sherlock running quickly towards her. They were no more than ten meters away when she jumped into the taxi and practically yelled at the driver to 'step on it'.

The taxi driver obeyed, speeding off into the distance. Jane looked back, to see Sherlock cursing at John. Sherlock eyed the back of the taxi with hate and Jane couldn't help but smile a little at her successful escape.

Now, if only she could just make sure Sherlock wasn't in that Laboratory...


	8. Poison and Jim

**Thank you for reviewing!  
Thank you for all the follows!  
And hello, to all my readers. ****I hope you're enjoying the story. **

* * *

-Chapter 8-

Jane went back to the office, frustrated that she didn't get the chance to figure out what chemical was in the prescription bottle. She was also infuriated that Sherlock pick pocketed her. She would need to wear buttoned pockets from now on around him. Or better yet, avoid him entirely!

She stormed her way into the office, people noticed how angry she looked and immediately shot out of the way. She burst into Lestrade's office, and secretly thankful, no one else was in there and he wasn't busy.

"Miss Distel-"

"You need to control Sherlock Holmes!" Jane glowered, curling her fingers into her palms so hard that her finger nails were digging into her skin.

"I sent him a text." Lestrade said.

Jane took a deep breath. "I just-sorry."

"No need to apologize. Sherlock's like that. He's not apologetic, either." Lestrade shrugged.

Jane pressed her lips together for a moment, deep in thought before an idea came to her. "Do you think you can distract Sherlock for three hours tomorrow? I really need to run a couple of tests on evidence I found..."

"Evidence?" Lestrade inquired, slightly furrowing his brows.

"Yeah." Jane nodded, her hand absentmindedly slipping into her jacket pocket to feel the cylindrical bottle.

"You didn't bother to send it in to be examined by professionals or alert any of the other investigators?" Lestrade said, an edgy tone drawing into his voice.

Jane had to be careful, what she did; taking the bottle and not telling anyone is against the rules to do. They need all the evidence they can get, mostly because the first case was inexplicably blown up and whatever evidence in the building is long gone.

Now there was a second body, and Jane was pretty sure that the investigators and detectives were already on that case. She would have to check on their findings at a later time.

"It was unnecessary, I could handle these cases on my own." Jane confidently explained.

"With all due respect, Miss Distel, I would feel rather comfortable if you had a partner at the very least. These cases can become rather harsh and unpredictable." Lestrade reasoned, a slight worried look on his face.

Jane sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"And about your proposition, _I'll _see what I can do." Lestrade smiled.

Jane turned to leave the office and looked over shoulder. "Thanks."

The next morning, Molly Hooper has sent Jane a text saying that the body has been dissected and she had a few notes that she was sure that Jane would take an interest in.

Lestrade had arranged a driver to pick up Jane from her flat and bring her straight to the Forensic Pathology Laboratory and afterwards, the chemistry lab. Apparently, Lestrade had asked Sherlock to take a look at another body across town, which didn't really bother Jane because she had more evidence than he did.

Surely, after whoever planned this made their first plan, they must have realized their mistake and think it through again. Especially throwing a suspicious substance in a bottle in a nearby alley - that was their first mistake.

Once the driver has stopped in front of the Pathology Lab, Jane went straight to the room and Molly was already prepared with a notes jotted down neatly.

"Good morning, Molly." Jane smiled, as she took the clipboard from Molly's hands.

"Good morning." Molly returned the smile.

Molly looked different today. She looked brighter, more happy. Her hair was parted differently and it was tied into a messy bun at the side of her head. She was genuinely smiling, unlike yesterday where she forced herself to smile.

"You seem awfully cheery today. That's good." Jane commented, reading over the notes and imprinting them into her memory.

"Oh, yeah, well..." Molly blushed, giggling.

Jane smiled at her, condescendingly. "Found yourself someone, am I right?"

"Is it that obvious?" Molly inquired, half-concerned and half-flattered.

Jane shook her head. "No, but I'm a girl too, you know."

"You're right." Molly said, observing Jane scanning the lined paper. Silence fell among them.

"Over here," Jane said, pointing at one of the notes scrawled. "You say there seems to be some sort of damage within his esophagus, could you please elaborate?"

Molly walked over to the metal table, where the exposed teenage boy's body was laying. Molly pulled on blue latex gloves and dragged her finger along the boy's throat.

"The interior of his esophagus as well as his throat have peeling skin and it looks damaged. As if he drunk something corrosive or poisonous, like bleach." Molly explained, frowning down at her patient.

Jane got an excited feeling within her, this proves that the boy did, in fact, ingest some sort of poison, which made made her confidence boost up by ten percent. She was sure that whatever poison was inside that prescription bottle, it would definitely be the same thing that ruin this boy's throat.

"Interesting." Jane murmured. Jane clasped her hands together, a broad smile widening on her face. "Thank you, Molly, for noting your insights. They were helpful."

Just then, the double doors swung open and a short, dark brown haired man came in, a sly smile on his face. He was holding a cup of coffee and handed it to Molly, who smiled at him coyly.

"Hi Jim." Molly smiled, a slow blush creeping to her cheeks.

Jane instantly knew who Molly's infatuated by.

"Oh," Molly perked up. "Jane, this is Jim. Jim, Jane."

Jane scrutinized the man for a moment, before meeting his hand to shake once. His hair was neatly cut and placed properly. His eyebrows were neatly trimmed, too, which was very surprising. He was cleanly shaven, too. He was overly groomed, Jane thought, and his drawers were peaking up far above his hip line. It was a light pink color.

Jane gave him an abrupt smile, knowing that he was still looking at her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, I must be off. Molly, if another victim comes in do not hesitate to text me, whether Lestrade asks me to come in or not. I'd love to take another look." Jane smiled, gave a head nod to Jim, and exited the room.

Jane felt uneasy, leaving Jim with Molly. It was obvious that Jim wasn't straight, he's gay. He was overly groomed, too much hair product and even his eyebrows were done! His drawers were way above the hip bone, not to mention that they were pink too. Although Jane could be wrong, just by judging by appearances, but Jim must otherwise be really, _really_ feminine.

Jane hopped back into the car that was awaiting for her, and they were off to the lab again.

Hopefully, Sherlock's not there.


	9. Occupying Sherlock

-Chapter 9-

"Where's Sherlock?" Jim inquires, pursing his lips in anticipation.

Molly sets her coffee down, throwing the white sheet back over the deceased. Molly shrugged, furrowing her eyebrows a little bit. She didn't understand why Sherlock and Jane were having a conflict. It was obvious that they didn't like each other very much, but could it be something else? Was Sherlock being replaced by Jane?

To Molly's mind, she couldn't see that happening. Sherlock was far too brilliant and clever to ever be replaced. Sherlock has figured out cases that even the most skilled detective couldn't find with all the time in the world.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Molly said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Jim huffed. "I was looking forward to meeting him." He confessed, sincere disappointment in his voice. "Who exactly is Jane?"

"She's another investigator. Lestrade says she's real good, but others have different opinions." Molly explains.

Jim thinks for a moment, remembering Jane's brown hair, brown eyes and fair complexion. He's remembering how tall she is, the sound of her voice and even the silhouette of her walk. He's going to remember, he can't forget.

"Oh." He mutters, pretending that the information wasn't that important to him. "Anyway, Molly dear, I'll see you later. I must be off."

"Okay. Will I see you later?" Molly queries, an innocent look on her face.

Jim smiles at her widely. "Of course."

* * *

Jane was at the Chemistry Laboratory faster than before. She hurriedly made her way to the known Chemistry room and was more than relieved when she realized she was the only one in the room.

Knowing the procedure, she did everything she needed to do before she started to work; putting on a lab coat, goggles, gloves and getting all the appropriate materials. She missed the Chemistry lab, she hadn't been in one since her move.

She retrieved the prescription bottle with the weird yellowish substance lingering in it and took a drop tube and took a sample of the liquid and began her personal experiments.

* * *

Sherlock has John trailing behind him, as usual. Sherlock was working on a case that seemed interesting, as usual. But what was unusual was Lestrade practically demanding him to go take a look.

"I want you to go and take a look at this body. Report anything you find."

It was a demand, clearly. Usually, Lestrade would suggest a case to Sherlock and Sherlock would debate whether he wanted to do it or not. After all, he wasn't really an employee. He was only a consultant.

And of course, as he had an 'unconscious' (as John liked to put it) competition between the amateur investigator Jane Distel. Sherlock would always deny that there was any sort of competition. "It would only be a competition if it were a _challenge_." Sherlock would retort and John would go back to being quiet.

So, there Sherlock and John was, at the third victim of the explosion. It was fortunate, that they got to this person on time. The victim hadn't been blown up. No one reported seeing this person and no one reported a suspicious missing person. So whoever planned this, was definitely trying to leave a message.

Sergeant Sally Donovan was there, of course, and so was the annoying Anderson. Like always, Donovan was not too happy letting Sherlock by and Anderson kept whining about how he'll contaminate the evidence. "Well, it's too late, whatever evidence was there is gone now." Donovan had sneered. "You're lying. There was no explosion. In addition, any explosion _is_ evidence." Sherlock has snapped back.

Sherlock and John made it pass the yellow police tape and had started to walk around. They were in an awkward alleyway, surrounded by fences and the backs of houses. The pavement was noticeably uneven and otherwise it was very dim, despite the light from the sun.

And there was the body, face down just like all the others, on the cold, hard ground.

Immediately, the observations were being put directly into the yet-to-be-filled depths of Sherlock's complex, unpredictable mind.

Teenager, probably around sixteen or seventeen. Possibly eighteen. Gender? Female. Arms are scabbed from recent pricks. Definite heroin addict. Dry, dirty blond hair with faded purple streaks. Tattered grey shirt, greyish white jeans and wearing worn out sneakers. Definitely low-class, on the verge of poverty and an _gullible_, _easy _lure.

Sherlock's eyes knew where to wonder. Sherlock knew the evidence was not on this teenager's body. The time bomb had been stripped and defused, just like the second victim's had. Oh, but Sherlock knew that the evidence was no where on this teen's body. Nope, he knew that this criminal _whoever _it was, knew that the detective and investigators would be too interested in the dead body, rather than the surroundings. What else would they need to search? A _time bomb _was _strapped _to the girl's body, and she's _dead_.

Sherlock's eyes glinted in wonder. His eyes scanning everywhere except the body, and John frowned at the deceased, obviously confused but trying to deduct a conclusion of his own. Though, his conclusion was far from right, and John knew that.

Then, he noticed a small patch of grass, close to the barbed fence and he also noticed a small, orange container hidden within it. He made his way over there, picking up the bottle with his gloves on and squinting at it. Then, an internal reminder flicked on in his mind.

This was the same container, the same prescription bottle with the same type of liquid that Jane Distel had in her pocket.

Could Jane Distel be behind all these murders? She had _just _moved here. She was _new_. No one would suspect her, especially someone who was personally called in by Lestrade and practically forced her to move here.

No, that would be too obvious. Sherlock knew Jane Distel was a serious person. And serious was so, utterly _boring_. But he should have suspected this from her. What made him think she was anything special in the first place?

Probably her backbone and her courage to _out-wit _him.

No, Sherlock knew that whoever this criminal is. They _wanted _to be caught. But why? _Why _did they want to be caught? And why go through all this trouble, take away all these lives? Leave clues in every scene, and continue to kill more people?

But these were master minds they were dealing with. It is also the third day in a row that they had found a dead body with a time bomb strapped on them.

Sherlock tucked the prescription bottle in his pocket and dragged John away from the crime scene.

"We're going to the Chem lab."


	10. Anonymous Texter

-Chapter 10-

It took Jane a really long time to pin point which exact chemical was in the mysterious bottle, but she got it.

"Sulfur trioxide!" Jane exclaimed, smiling widely down at the landmass of mess she made.

It had been nearly four hours since Jane had first walked into the Chemistry Laboratory, and with four hours of complete silence, she figured out the chemical that was being ingested by these teenagers.

But something bothered her about all of this. Why were all the victims teenagers? Why were all the victims killed in or or near their homes? Something was definitely off about this case, but it shouldn't take long for her to figure it out. She always figured it out.

Gathering her things and cleaning after her mess, she quickly noted that she had to go back to the station and talk to Lestrade about her findings. After his little concern about her doing the work all by herself, she thought it best to notify someone she actually _trusted _first. Jane's not too fond of Anderson, DI Dimmock or any of the other workers, so who better to talk to then the person who hired you in the first place?

Jane made her way to the station, after two minutes of unsuccessfully hailing taxis that already had passengers within them. She ruffled her hair, and slipped her hand into her bag where all her notes were - not that she really needed them.

She let herself into Lestrade's office, knowing well that he probably wasn't doing anything.

"I found something." Jane confirmed, looking straight into the unoccupied detective inspector who was nonchalantly playing on his phone.

Lestrade looked up from his cellphone and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"About the case? What did you find?" He inquired, genuinely shocked. Jane tried not to be offended by his lack of faith in her.

Jane handed the detective inspector her recorded findings; basically the tests that confirmed whether it was positive or negative for certain effects and chemicals. Lestrade frowned in confusion at the paper with highlighted words, charts and integers.

"And what is this supposed to mean?" He queried, in an embarrassed tone.

"The chemical used to poison and kill these victims is called sulfur trioxide." Jane explained, a glint of enthusiasm in her eyes. "If you stop the time bomb on time and exam the bodies for a burnt, peeling throat and pale irises, then you'll know exactly what killed them."

"That's brilliant. It will help us link each victim to another." Lestrade realized.

"Exactly." Jane concluded.

"You're absolutely brilliant. Do you think you can figure out who is doing all of this?" Lestrade questioned, a playful look in his subtle eyes.

Jane smiled wildly. "No. I _know _I can."

Jane went back to her flat, 223B. And luckily, her neighbors weren't home.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Hudson." Jane greeted her elderly landlady.

"Hello, dear!" She saluted back.

Jane skipped two stairs as she made her way to her apartment, and was more than relieved when she realized she had left the place cleaned up.

She dumped her things on the kitchen table, and quickly started to unpack.

Her notes were now piled onto the table, along with files of other cases that Lestrade wanted her to analyze and make a few notes for herself. Along with those, she took out the sulfur trioxide filled prescription bottle and put it on the table, next to the salt shaker and the pepper shaker. And lastly, she took out a fossilized portrait of a fish that she found and thought it a waste to throw away.

As she put her stuff and laid it out on the table, she thought of how angry it would make Sherlock if he found out that Lestrade was handing her separate assignments to look over. She knew that Sherlock was used to having Lestrade's complete and utter trust but she also knew that things needed to change and that she didn't move all the way to England to come at another dead end job.

Just then, her cell phone buzzed. The text message read:

_Hellooo!_

But Jane didn't recognize the number. Curiously, she replied:

_Who are you?_

She laid her phone on the table but it buzzed before she even got the chance to sit down. It read:

_I'm a friend!_

Jane frowned intensely. Whoever this friend was, was definitely not giving away their identity very well. Annoyed, she replied:

_Care to elaborate which 'friend' you are?_

By this time, Jane had successfully made her way to the couch and turned on her telly before it buzzed. It read:

_I'm hurt that you don't remember me  
You seemed to be intrigued by me  
I guess I was wroooong._

Jane frowned, ignoring the text message. Whoever it was, probably had the wrong number. So, she replied:

_You've got the wrong number._

The number was definitely from London, England and the only people she had given her number to was Molly and Lestrade. She hadn't really met anyone new and she didn't randomly give her number out to anyone. So who must it be?

Just then, she got a text message that frightened her probably more than it should have.

_Oh, honey, I'm sure I've got it right.  
I hope you're enjoying this little_  
_game._

_The time's-a-tickin'._

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._


	11. John and Sherlock Have a Talk

-Chapter 11-

"Sherlock?" John called from the other room. "We need to have a talk."

John and Sherlock were back at their flat on Baker Street. John had had a long day, and quite frankly, he's noticed how Sherlock's attitude shifted from time to time. It especially changed when he was around a certain Jane Distel. Although, John couldn't tell if Sherlock's hatred towards Jane was just a mask to hide...jealousy? Attraction?

Sherlock was in the living area, tapping away on the computer and ignoring everything around him. When John realized that Sherlock hadn't 'heard' him, he walked right over to him and slammed the laptop screen shot. Sherlock frowned in response and wildly looked up at him.

"Was that necessary?" Sherlock seethed, clenching his fists on his thighs.

John ignored Sherlock's angry tone.

"We need to have a discussion, Sherlock." John frowned back at him, not a hint of humor in his voice.

Sherlock looked at John, trying to figure out what John would want to talk about. But he came up blank. He was too busy being side-tracked and storing information in his mind to think about the changes in _John's _attitude. Sullen, quiet and discrete. Was it because of Sherlock's new 'competition', as John liked to put it?

"About what?" Sherlock queried, an innocent look on his face.

John sat in his arm chair, clasping his hands together and staring Sherlock dead in the eye.

"You said you got those samples from Lestrade." John stated, referring to the prescription bottle Sherlock had pick pocketed from Jane.

"I got them from Jane." Sherlock admitted, knowing well that John couldn't get worked up over such a small glitch. So what if he stole it from Jane? Sherlock knew he was clever enough to figure out who was behind all of this, and if there was any evidence that had some potential, why wouldn't he snag it? He knew that he couldn't just _ask _Jane for it. No, Lestrade was the one to _give _her the case. But this investigation also spiked Sherlock's curiosity. He just _had _to know. It was a human instinct to _know_. And John had a hard time realizing that Sherlock's only human.

"So you stole it?" John inquired, but it was more of a statement. John knew Sherlock stole it.

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed, twirling his dead human skull in his hands.

John sighed and shook his head. "Why didn't you say so?"

"Because I knew you would disapprove and nag me until I gave it back." Sherlock pointed out.

"Of course I would!"

"Why?"

"_Because it's the right thing to do!_" John shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "This isn't your case, Sherlock. If Lestrade wanted you to look into it, he would have come to you or text you. But he didn't. He asked Jane and she's a professional-"

"She's an amateur." Sherlock snapped, his colorful eyes gleaming. Sherlock's mind immediately recalled when he had met up with his brother, Mycroft Holmes, to retrieve information regarding Jane Distel.

Jane Distel. Twenty-seven years old. Five foot four. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Has been a doctor for approximately a year and a half. She had graduated by the time she was sixteen and had taken medical school by the time she was seventeen. She had a master's in criminology and had solved over fifty cases. She used to be a Canadian but had recently moved to London, England, to pursue a career as an investigator.

It baffled Sherlock to why Jane would have given up being a doctor over an investigator.

"How would you know?" John inquired.

"She's far too young." Sherlock reasoned.

John shook his head for the second time. "You can't judge someone by their appearances, Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't respond to John, and instead, ignored him. There was no point in trying to persuade someone of their opinion if they can't possibly understand the details.

"We technically are working on the case, though." Sherlock interjected, opening up his laptop. John didn't protest.

Instead, John frowned. "How?"

"Lestrade had us look at another body." Sherlock stated, opening up the tab that led to his blog.

"That doesn't mean we're working on the same case." John said.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder in disbelief. "Really, John? Were you that oblivious? Didn't you notice that the victim was strapped in a defused time bomb? Did you not notice that it was a teenager? Did you not notice that the body was near their residence? Did you not notice how the body was face down? Did you not notice the same prescription bottle filled with the same liquid substance as the one that I stole from-"

"I get it, Sherlock, I get it. I don't pay attention." John snapped, hoping that it would shut Sherlock up even just for a little bit.

Sherlock hadn't taken John's snapping to be sarcastic, instead, he thought of it to be quite depressing.

"No, John, no one does. It is rather saddening."


	12. Investigating - Emma Hampton

**I hope you are all enjoying the story so far.  
Leave a review, if it's convenient. I'm lacking feedback!  
Thank you (: **

* * *

-Chapter 12-

Jane walked into the office the next day, taking her usual seat near Lestrade's desk. After what had happened last night, it sort of spooked her and she didn't feel like being all alone. So, she came into work extra early.

It was five in the morning on a Tuesday morning.

The sun was barely up, only some of the workers started to pile in the office. By the time it was six, Jane had already planned her day out and now half of the office's workers were at their desks, typing away or analyzing facts.

Lestrade walked into the door at 6:24AM with his briefcase in hand and he looked tired. He spun around to see Jane fiddling with her phone.

He jumped.

"Good morning!" Jane greeted him cheerfully, making him groan in response.

"What are you doing here so early, Jane?" Lestrade groaned, sluggishly walking towards his desk and taking a seat.

"Thought I'd come to start work." Jane said, her tone stating that her actions were obvious.

Lestrade closed his eyes, pretending to think. "Did you finish the other cases I gave to you?"

Jane's eyes lit up slightly, as she reached into her bag and whipped out a dozen or so enveloped files. She handed them over to Lestrade who's eyes widened in response to the quantity of files she had completed in twenty-four hours notice.

"In case three, the husband did it. It's only sane explanation. The knife was hidden in the most absurd place in their residence and it only made sense that he did it as he had no alibi, not only that, but he knows his house as well as his wife did and to hide to knife before his kids walked in from school was impeccable timing. In case seven, the thief was the employee. If you bothered to watch the tape thoroughly, you'd notice that she had left five minutes prior to when the vault was unlocked and-"

"Jeez." Lestrade interrupted her. "I hadn't expected you to be this...observant."

Jane shrugged, her pursing her lips to the side of her mouth. "You have to see to observe, but sadly people only look for what they _expect _to see."

Lestrade looked down, as if he were secretly admitting that he can relate to that. Jane shrugged it off though, eagerly sitting in her seat. You could say she was in some sort of a shock, after receiving all those creepy text messages last night. You never know who could really be on the other end of the conversation, and Jane had this weird feeling that whoever it was, wasn't a good person.

Suddenly, a miraculous thought crept into her mind.

She gasped, immediately catching the attention of Lestrade. "You need to tell me where you found the second victim of the Time Bomb case."

Lestrade frowned. "Just outside of the flats on Orchard Lane-"

Jane got up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. It was just a little bit past seven, and she knew that London must be buzzing by now.

She opened the door and gave one last, longing look behind her shoulder. "I'll be back soon, I need to do something."

Before Lestrade could even get a word in, Jane was out of his office within a flash. As she speed walked through the other offices, she noticed the whiny, annoying Anderson standing by. He gave her a glare, obviously wondering when she came into Lestrade's office.

But she didn't listen as he tried to give her a snide comment. She was already out of the building.

Her hand immediately shot up into the air, as she hailed a taxi cab. She hopped in, gave the driver directions, and they were off. It was only ten minutes later when she got out of the taxi and stopped right in front of the flats that Lestrade had told her about.

Everything was still set up; the police tapes, the little numbers on the ground telling where some evidence was, and one police cruiser who was probably monitoring the site.

Jane went over to the flats and let herself in, knocking the doors of residents who might have been home when the police had discovered the body.

It also occurred to her, who had reported the deceased teenaged boy?

One lady answered the door.

"Hi." She seemed sort of shy, her wavy black hair slung over her shoulders, and partly her face. Her eyes were a stunning green, and blood shot. She had been recently crying, possibly over the deceased teenager? She looked to be in her late teens, if not, early twenties.

"Hello," Jane greeted her with a smile. "My name's Jane Distel, and I'm an investigator, do you mind doing an interview about the recent incident outside your flat?"

The young girl looked down, her green eyes shifting uncertainly before she bowed her head, and widened the gap between the door and the threshold.

Jane stepped in, quickly scanning the flat for anything out of place. But nothing seemed to be. It was neat, tidy, the telly was on and there was a cold cup of tea sitting on the coffee table, sitting only halfway in the mug.

"Would you like anything to drink?" The young woman offered, tucking a loose strand of wavy hair behind her ear.

Jane smiled at the shy girl. "No, thank you."

"Let's get this interview going then." The young woman whispered, almost nervously.

Jane sat down on a chair, opposing the telly. The young woman took a seat on the couch facing the west side of the wall.

"What's your name?" Jane inquired, her fingers twiddling around each other.

The green-eyed girl looked up at Jane. "My name's Emma Hampton."

"Well, Miss Hampton," Jane began. "Have you seen anything suspicious these past couple of days?"

Emma began to tear up, and she tried to hide her face and compose herself but she was failing miserably. A tear ran down her cheek, and landed on her jeans. She vigorously wiped the tear away, sniffling in the process.

"No." She shook her head.

"Do you know who the deceased was?" Jane inquired, hoping this question would lead her further into the yet-to-be-resolved case.

Slowly, Emma nodded. "Jake? Yeah. I did."

Jane licked her lips. "What was he like?"

Emma's hands shot up to her eyes, her mascara smudging at the contact but Jane didn't bother to tell her. Instead, she watched idly as Emma's shaking hands wiped away more tears from her face. Jake and Emma's relationship must have been sentimental; close, in order for her to act this way. She wasn't capable of controlling her emotions.

"Jake...he was so...he was just _so _sweet." But the tone of Emma's voice said otherwise. It sounded like a bitter reply. "Always so kind, so..._careful_. He didn't like to be bothered much, but I used to always been an exception."

Jane made a mental note. Key words: _I used to always._

"I see." Jane nodded. "Where were you when you had heard the police arrive?"

Emma's eyes seemed distant then. "I went down to get the mail from the mail man, actually. I saw them arrive and went back up to my flat, for safety purposes. I didn't know what was happening until the news report later that day. Then I heard there was another body found yesterday, a third victim."

Jane noticed Emma's change in subject rapidly. Jane also learned that another body had been found. But Lestrade didn't tell her about _that_.

At this point, Jane wanted to know the mail man's identity. Anyone could be a suspect. Even her.

"Could you describe what the mail man looked like?" Jane queried.

It was then that Jane noticed fear flash in Emma's eyes, and Emma quickly looked at the telly, which was still on.

"Shouldn't you be writing all this down?" Emma inquired, monotonic.

Jane smiled a little bit at this question. It didn't matter who she was with, they _always _questioned why she never wrote.

"Oh, don't worry. I have a brilliant memory." Jane's smile widened.

Emma sighed, uneasily. "Well, okay. He was tall, um, had dark hair. He had pale skin-oh excuse me, _fair _skin. His eyes are dark, I think. I don't know. I didn't really pay attention to him." Emma shrugged, and Jane noticed that Emma was picking at her nails. She had also chosen her words carefully.

And oddly, this information sounded familiar.

Jane stood up, the information was all she needed to know. For now.

"Thank you, Miss Emma Hampton, for your help." Jane nodded, heading towards the door.

"Wait," Emma halted her, standing up. "You're not from here, are you?"

Jane had a warm sense of deja-vu. "What makes you think that?"

"Your accent." Emma acknowledged, her whole status seemed to have changed.

Jane smiled wildly, knowing how well this conversation will end. She opened the door, and stepped out of it. She looked over her shoulder, her brown hair whipping behind her.

"You're right. I'm not."


	13. Teenaged Secret

-Chapter 13-

People had always wondered exactly _who _Jane Distel was.

People from her high school would have described her to be shy; an introvert. They would pass her in the hallways. No one really paid attention to her. Maybe a couple of people would give her shy smiles, or head nods.

Others that had only gotten acquainted to her would have described her to be a show-off, a know-it-all. But no one really understood that she had hyperthymesia. She couldn't really _help it._

The rare people-the ones that actually got to know Jane-would have described her to be bubbly, happy and intelligent. Those who had ever gotten to a personal level with Jane (which was quite rare in Jane's book) would have adored her completely.

High school was always weird for Jane Distel. She was sort of an outcast, yet people were scared of her intelligence. People couldn't really put her on a social ladder. She just sort of had her own scale.

The teachers loved her punctuality, intelligence and success. They would always take pride on themselves because of Jane. Teachers thought they had some sort of breakthrough. What other student can achieve a 5.0 Grade Point Average? Then they realized Jane had hyperthymesia, that she remembers everything, and then they'd be disappointed.

Jane never really had friends. Yes, she had people to talk to and who would talk to her back, but she never engaged in a social gathering. She was always invited, but she never went.

You can say that she was a bit of a loner, but it was intentional. What's the point of getting close to people anyway?

Jane went about her business, knowing everything.

She was told, at a very young age, that her intelligence was above-average. Well above average. She was told she could do _anything _and _achieve_.

That statement alone probably ruined her whole life.

Because when Jane _couldn't_ succeed in making any _proper _friends, one she trusted wholly, one she can bring home without her mother always pointing out their flaws, one that would understand that Jane's life as an intelligent person was hard...

She thought she was broken.


	14. Tea with Jim

-Chapter 14-

With this new information from Emma Hampton, Jane immediately went back to Scotland Yard to talk to Lestrade. She needed to inform him, not only on what she has found, but why she sent Sherlock instead of her to look at the third body they had discovered.

As she entered the office, her face was sullen. Anderson was on sight quickly, smirking at her. Sergeant Donovan, shockingly, elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a stern look. They both emerged in rapid conversation.

Jane swung the office door opened, letting it hit the wall. Lestrade put the phone down, hanging up and looked up at her curiously.

"You already found something?" He queried, astonished.

Jane nodded. "I did an interview, that's about it."  
Still, even though Jane trusted Lestrade, she didn't want him to know any more than anyone else in the department. People would get too nosy and try to figure out who did it on their own. And Jane didn't want that, she knew she could finish this on her own. She had already solved over fifty cases single handedly.

"Anything of any use?" He queried, chucking a yellow folder off to the side.

Jane shrugged. "Not really, I'll figure something out soon."

Lestrade nodded.

"So," Jane began, trying to avoid an awkward moment. "I heard there was a third body found."

Lestrade didn't react, he just nodded again. "There was."

Jane crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Why wasn't I sent to look at the scene?" She asked, frowning.

"You said you needed Sherlock out of the lab, so I sent him off to figure out what happened to the third victim." Lestrade reasoned, hoping that it was a good enough excuse to make Jane lay off.

"You couldn't have sent him on another case?" Jane inquired, a serious tone entering her voice.

Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Jane, we needed to get him into a case that he would be interested in. If he's not interested, then he won't do it."

Jane didn't say anything else. She ended up leaving the office, with Lestrade calling after her pleadingly.

She didn't even hail a taxi cab, she just kept walking for about a half an hour before she had grown tired and entered a small little cafe a few blocks away from her home and ordered tea.

"Jane? Jane Distel?" A familiar voice queried from behind her. She turned her head around and saw the familiar man she had met not too long ago.

"Oh, hello, Jim." Jane greeted him, uneasily.

He was definitely gay. Jane scanned him quickly. His hair was sleeked back, his eyebrows neatly plucked and waxed. His jeans were way above his hip bones, and his underwear was still visible. It was a neon green color. He faintly smelled of lilac.

"Join me." Jane smiled insincerely, and gestured towards the empty seat in front of her.

He nodded, grinning as he took the seat in front of her. He clasped his hands together and looked up at her.

"How are you?" He asked, noticing that Jane was looking elsewhere.

Jane shrugged. "Could be better."

He frowned slightly. "What's the matter?"

Jane contemplated whether she would want this stranger to know what really was wrong. Should she lie? She should. But he was Jim; Molly's boyfriend. Molly's so sweet, so quiet and so gentle. She's shy, too, and Jane knew that she doesn't have many friends, if any.

"Just work." It wasn't a lie.

Jim nodded, understandingly. "Oh. What do you do?"

"I'm an investigator." Jane answered, sipping from her tea cup.

Jim's eyebrows shot up, interested. "Do you work with DI Lestrade and all them down in Scotland Yard?"

Jane narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes. I do. How did you know?"

Jim shrugged nonchalantly. "Molly said so."

Jane nodded. "Oh. How are things with you and her?"

Jim smirked slightly, and a dark expression crossed his face only to leave again the same second.

"Things are well. She's lovely." He replied. Jane thought she heard a little bit of sarcasm but ignored it. She'll have to talk to Molly later.

For a while, they just talked about little things. Jane felt the sudden urge to tell him everything; a feeling she never gets, and it frightened her more than anything. What does this mean? Was she actually falling for a secretly gay, taken man? Or was there a chemical imbalance in her brain?

About an hour had passed by and suddenly Jane started to feel comfortable around him. They were talking practically about everything, except Jane left out her secrets and her personal background information. Though, Jim, had no problem telling her about his ethnicity and about his life.

"I must head back to my flat." Jane said, putting her wallet and ID into her purse.

Jim nodded, smiling. "Sure sure, whereabouts do you live?"

"A couple of blocks down, actually." Jane said, checking her phone. She had two new text messages.

"On Baker Street?" Jim inquired, innocently.

"Yes, actually. Did Molly tell you that, too?" Jane teased.

Jim chuckled lightly. "No, it was a wild guess."

"Well, it was nice meeting you again, Jim." Jane said, getting up.

"You too, I hope to see you again, Miss Distel." Jim said, then Jane was off.

Back to 223B.

* * *

Jane walked into her flat, ignoring the screeching of the violin that her neighbor must be playing. Whoever it was, seriously needed some lessons.

Jane went to her kitchen and had gotten herself something to eat before sitting down on the couch, flicking the telly back on, and reading the messages on her phone.

She scrolled through the two unread ones, one was from Lestrade and one was from the unknown number. Curiously, she opened the message from the stranger and began to read. It read:

_How are you enjoying yourself?_

With a shudder, Jane immediately deleted the text and went right to Lestrade's. It read:

_Jane, I understand that you're upset  
but you aren't the only one on the  
force that solves these cases. Sherlock  
Holmes is a trusted detective, and he's  
brilliant.  
You should consider speaking to him  
about his techniques and strategies.  
If you decide to, try not to slap him._

_- Lestrade_

Jane sighed irritably, shutting her phone off.

Jane did not want to consult Sherlock Holmes for 'strategies' and 'techniques'. Jane was just as good as him. She's a doctor _and _an investigator. She's intelligent, highly intelligent. And having hyperthymesia isn't enough to convince him that Jane's capable of doing a case on her own?

Maybe if you don't have hyperthymesia, should you choose to seek help, but Jane Distel had hyperthymesia, thus, enabling her to remember every aspect of her life.

Where could she find Sherlock Holmes anyway? Where would he stay? Where _does _he stay? He doesn't seem to be the type of person who lives with a family. He seems to be the type of person who's always on the move; who never sleeps.

Suddenly, gun shots rang out nearby. Jane ducked and took note that the gun shots did not echo, so it couldn't have been from outside. It was inside, when she realized that her drywall had been scattered all over the floor. She peered up from the couch, and notice give bullet holes on one of her walls.

Furiously, and grabbing her own gun that Lestrade had given her, she went to the neighbor's and busted through the door, her gun in hand.

She nearly lost hold of the gun, when she realized it was none other than...

Sherlock Holmes.


	15. The Flat of 221B

-Chapter 15-

"Oh..._no_!" Jane groaned, lowering her gun from her appointed target.

Sherlock lay on the couch, in his robe, with a pistol in hand. He looked genuinely surprised to see Jane standing in the middle of his flat. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jane didn't give him the chance to.

"You live here?" She said, her voice drowning in despair.

This was bad for her. Not only was she annoyed that he had worked on one of her cases, but he's shooting bullet holes into her wall!

"Yes." Sherlock replied, his pistol still pointed at the wall.

He then shot it once more.

Jane couldn't take it anymore. It was one thing to be interfering with her work, but to be damaging her house? There was an invisible boundary that you cannot cross with Jane, and Sherlock Holmes had already found his way across it.

Jane fired her gun, aiming at the pistol. It was perfect aiming; Sherlock's pistol went flying out of his hand and hitting the ground, making an indentation on the floor.

Sherlock jumped up from his laying position, and his wide eyes were glaring menacingly into Jane's.

"That was completely unnecessary!" Sherlock shouted, and Jane smirked.

"It was a sane decision. You're ruining the wall, and I will tell Lestrade to take away your license to own a gun. This is an inappropriate usage for it!" Jane explained, twirling her gun.

Sherlock was seething, his lips pressed firmly against each other as his prismatic eyes wandered around the room. It was clear that he was fighting the urge to rage at Jane. And Jane couldn't help but stifle a giggle and suppress a smile.

"Sherlock, I got so-"

Jane turned around to come face to face with John Watson, who looked genuinely surprised to see her in their flat.

"What is she doing here?" John inquires, nonchalantly walking over to the kitchen table, which was cluttered with many of Sherlock's _projects.  
_  
"She's here to threaten my license to own a gun." Sherlock muttered, as he tossed on the couch, his back facing them.

John sighed, an apologetic expression clear on his face. "What did Sherlock do now?"

Jane gestured to the wall, specifically to the yellow spray painted smiley face which had been evidently shot by six bullets. John shook his head, his mouth slightly parted.

"Sherlock!" John scolded, stressing his voice.

"I got _bored_, John." Sherlock replied, his voice lame and calm.

"He shot holes into my wall." Jane said, gritting her teeth.

John's eyes widened slightly. "You live next door?" He queried.

"Unfortunately, yes." Both Jane and Sherlock answered at the same time.

There was a brief moment of silence before Jane's mind suddenly realized something.

"Do you live here?" She asked John, who's eyes immediately darted to Sherlock.

Trying to be smart, he said, "What would make you think that?"

Jane shrugged, pacing around the room slowly as she imprinted the layout of their flat into her infinite mind. She smiled, as she noticed a big give away.

"Firstly, you came into the flat with groceries." Jane noted.

John frowned, crossing his arms. "I could be just doing him a favor."

Jane nodded, accepting his excuse. "That could be true." She judged. "But then, you didn't seem remotely bothered by the human skull over the fireplace or the chemicals placed on the kitchen table or the fact that there is a severed finger laying on a plate right next to the fruit bowl."

John looked away, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"And then there's your underwear on a pile of laundry right next to the couch. They seem too small to be Sherlock's and-"

"Well, just hold on a minute!" John cut her off, but she ignored his interjection.

"Your name is sewed into the back of it. Perhaps because you do not want to confuse yours with Sherlock's." Jane finished, satisfied with her quick analysis.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Amateur." He murmured.

Jane ignored him, continuing on. "Or the reason why your underwear would be in his flat would be because you two are both-"

"No! Never!" John interrupted her, flushing.

Sherlock frowned, not understanding.

"Okay, then." Jane said. "Friend, then."

"Friend?" Sherlock queried.

"Colleague!" John hissed.

Surely, this was out of character for Jane. But she couldn't help but tease the two of them. Sherlock gets irritated way too easily and John gets embarrassed just as equally.

Jane walked over to where Sherlock's gun has landed when she shot it out of his hand. Sherlock didn't budge from the couch. She picked it up and headed towards the door. She looked over her shoulder.

"You are paying to get the wall fixed." She muttered, before heading back to her flat.

John closed the door behind her, shaking his head at the same time.

Sherlock was still frowning intensely.

"Am I a bad friend, John? Do you not think of me as one?" Sherlock asked, genuinely concerned.

"Sherlock, I-"

"What is all the ruckus in here...oh my word!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed, her eyes widening as she saw the six bullet holes in the wall. "Sherlock!"

"I get bored, Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock explained, sighing.

"This is added onto your rent, young man!" She informed him. She then sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Oh, you must have scared the wits out of your neighbor."

Mrs Hudson walked out of the room, muttering something unintelligible to herself.

Sherlock and John were left in the apartment alone, the silence eerie.

Sherlock takes out his phone, immediately texting Lestrade.

_Jane has taken my gun away and threatened  
__to get my license taken away._

_Fix it._

-_SH _


	16. He's Back!

**Like I had mentioned, these characters are a tad bit OOC (Bromance included).  
Maybe I'll make different pairings in the near future.  
We'll see. Read on, my dears.**

* * *

-Chapter 16-

Jane was trying to figure out who was killing all those people, then attempting to blow them up afterwards.

"I have no idea, Jane." Lestrade confessed, sighing rubbing his tired eyes.

Jane pursed her lips, noting that Lestrade was about to give up.

"Well, let's take a look at the facts, shall we?" Jane suggested. "We know that all these victims swallowed Sulfur Trioxide, am I correct? They were either forced to swallow it, or their captors had poisoned their food or drinks with it. But I don't understand how they couldn't have noticed the scent and the taste, it's horrifying. Secondly, we know that all the victims are teenagers."

"I hadn't noted that." Lestrade admitted, his attitude perking up. "Perhaps those teenagers owed this person something-"

"That's a preposterous conclusion, Lestrade." Jane cut him off. "These teenagers all had something in common...something..."

"They were all approximately the same age. We had them all identified." Lestrade informed her, pulling out a file and giving it to her.

Eagerly, Jane opened the file and her eyes scanned it as quick as possible.

The first victim, the one that had been blown up went by the name of Clary Chance. She was fifteen years old when she died. The second victim, the body that had been saved on time and that had been examined by Jane, was of Josh Summer. He was almost sixteen when he died. And the last victim, the one that had been investigated, much to Jane's dislike, by Sherlock Holmes. The victim's name was Samantha Weller. She was fifteen when she died.

"The age, Lestrade. The age." Jane smiled widely, as she was inching closer to the end of the case.

Lestrade frowned. "What about their ages?"

"They're all roughly fifteen. Not a year old and not a year younger." Jane explained to him, shoving the file in to her bag.

"That could be a coincidence." Lestrade's pessimistic thinking was starting to irritate Jane.

But she shrugged. "It could be...but I happen to think that it could be _very _useful. I'll be at the Pathology Lab." She winked, and she was out of Lestrade's office in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"Sherlock, I happen to think that this is a very _bad _idea." John informed him gently.

Sherlock shot his short friend a dirty look.

"John, Lestrade has never given away a case this fascinating ever. How could he trust her wholly knowing her only for roughly around a month. Possibly a little bit more, considering she moved to London from Canada for this job." He stated, walking past the several rooms that led towards the Chemistry Lab.

"Lestrade has his reasons! And by Jane's deductions-"

"Her observations were obvious." Sherlock muttered, pushing through the double doors that led to the Chemistry Lab and he immediately went to work.

"Really? I wouldn't have thought-"

"You don't think." Sherlock snapped, losing his patience.

As usual, John pressed his lips firmly together and looked away.

"I texted Molly to come in and assist, as she knows more about Chemical testing than I do. She should be in any moment." Sherlock informed John, and John nodded, not muttering another word.

The Chemistry Laboratory was silent.

And eerie silent. Usually, John and Sherlock would be discussing something by now. But Sherlock wasn't acknowledging the unusual silence between both him and his flatmate. He was neutral; working away on the weird liquid in the prescription bottle he had found near the third victim's death scene.

And John just sat there, next to an empty table.

But Sherlock doesn't notice.

* * *

Jane was in a hurry to get to the Pathology Lab, where the third body was being kept for Molly Hooper's examination. Molly Hooper was so sweet, it was a mystery to why she chose Pathology as a career.

Perhaps it was because she didn't have to deal with the emotional, social part of most careers. She could just go right ahead and work with the subject with no distractions, no incoming, nervous questions, the subject would stay still and they never complained.

As soon as she arrived at the Lab, she let herself in and quickly went to the correct room. As predicted, Molly Hooper was standing in the middle of the vacant space, standing right next to a body wrapped with a white sheet. She was holding a clipboard in hand, jotting down notes of some sort.

"Hello, Molly." Jane greeted the young woman, who slightly jumped at the sudden presence.

"Oh, Jane! Lestrade told me you would be coming about." Molly informed her, with a shy smile.

Jane smiled back. "May I see the body, please?"

Molly nodded. "Of course."

Molly unwrapped the body of Samantha Weller, the fifteen year old who had died. She looked blue, but she could still be examined externally as well as internally.

Jane noticed that there were pricks all up and down the young girl's arms; definite heroin addict. Such large, red marks visible on the forearm could only mean that. Unless she was deliberately poking herself harshly with a pin need repeatedly.

"Interesting. Any other observations?" Jane asked, glancing over at Molly's clipboard.

"Yes, actually, like the last patient, the esophagus was harshly burnt and the external layer was peeling." Molly said.

Jane smirked, she knew exactly what was killing them now. There was no doubt that whoever was killing all these victims, was definitely making them take Sulfur Trioxide.

But why would they be strapping time bombs onto them?

_To get rid of the evidence. _

Well, it worked for the first victim. But not so much for the second or third. Whoever was up to this, definitely knew what they were doing.

The second victim hadn't been blown up, and the media was sure to make all of England aware of that. But when the third body came about, and the victim hadn't been blown up, it was then when Jane remarked that someone was deliberately doing this.

"Thanks, Molly, you've been of great help." Jane told her, and left the building.

Immediately after taking her first step out of the Laboratory, she received two text messages. One was from Lestrade, the other was from the Unknown person. She shivered uneasily. Who was this person?

_Jane, we've received footage of all  
three victim. Get back soon._

_-Lestrade_  
_  
_Jane replied back.

_On my way._

_-JD_

Jane didn't open up the text message, she wasn't in the mood to be scared. She had to analyze the videos soon, because they could be helpful.

Jane arrived back at Scotland Yard within ten minutes, and quickly ran up to Lestrade's office, and he was impatiently waiting for her at his desk. He held up four disks, and handed them to her.

"Watch right now, so we can move along with this case." Lestrade instructed her, and exited the room, leaving Jane in his office to watch the videos.

Jane inserted the disks into the little portable player laid out on Lestrade's desk and immediately pressed play.

The screen came up as black and white, much to Jane's dismay.

Jane fast forwarded to the exact time and date when the first victim, Clary Chance, died and was strapped in a time bomb.

Jane let the seconds roll, and when the correct time and date came up, it immediately blurred and jumped to an hour forward. Jane frowned.

She also checked the other disks, to see if the same reaction happened, but it came up blank.

Lestrade opened the door, and let himself in.

"Did you find anything?" He queried, his worry lines visible on his exhausted face.

"No. The tapes are blank." She said.

Lestrade frowned. "What do you mean they're blank?"

"I mean exactly what I just said, Greg. The tapes were erased and jumped to an hour after the incidents happened. There is nothing useful of these tapes." Jane replied sharply, handing him back the useless disks.

"They're being cautious and careful." Lestrade concluded.

Jane nodded.

_Or maybe we're predictable._

"I'm going to go back to my flat and try to figure out what to do next." Jane informed him, he just nodded, lost in thought, and then she left.

* * *

"Sherlock, you know that it's Moriarty doing this." John was stressing.

Sherlock averted his eyes to his flatmate, who was clearly irritated at Sherlock's stubborn behavior. Why couldn't he just stop Moriarty? He knew many ways to contact him!

"Because, John, Moriarty is busy." Sherlock replied simply, and it only seemed to irritate John even further.

"He's poisoning people with that sulfuric-"

"Sulfur Trioxide." Sherlock corrected him.

"Sulfur Trioxide," John gritted his teeth. "and he's strapping time-bombs to innocent people! Sherlock, you have to stop him before anyone else gets hurt."

Sherlock sat upright, his colorful eyes burning into John's brown ones.

"I have tried, John." Sherlock informed him, and John's looked at him with surprise. "But he seems uninterested. He has a _new _playmate."

John looked genuinely puzzled. What did Sherlock mean that Moriarty had a new playmate?

"Who?" John queried.

Sherlock shrugged. For the first time in a long time, Sherlock didn't know.

"I don't know." He murmured.

It was silent for a moment, and the only things that could be heard was their neighbor entering her apartment.

"You don't think that _she _could be his new 'playmate', do you, Sherlock?" John nodded his head towards the direction of their neighbor.

Sherlock frowned. "It could be possible. Then again, Moriarty does get bored often, John. Jane Distel is merely an obstacle and sooner or later she will be eliminated. Moriarty wouldn't-_couldn't_-be interested in her." Sherlock sneered.

"Anything is possible." John interjected.

Sherlock didn't utter a word.

Silence fell amongst 221B for a while, before both Sherlock and John heard someone's blood curdling scream-and it came from next door.

John shot Sherlock a concerned look and both of them ran out of their flat, and busted through Jane Distel's door.

There, standing a few feet from her balcony window was Jane, her hand raised to her heart and her eyes widened. She was clearly panting and frightened.

And only four feet away, standing in front of her with an amused grin, was Jim.


	17. A New Plaything

**Just a reminder that I won't be here from May 22nd-June 3rd.  
I'll be on Hiatus Mode.  
I will try and get another Chapter up from where I am, if I can.  
Enjoy.**

If convenient, write a review. If not, write one anyway.

* * *

-Chapter 17-

Jane relaxed out of her shocked reaction, and immediately frowned at her two unwelcome guests that were standing in her flat.

"What are you two doing here?!" She shrieked, glaring at John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, who were both glowering at Jim.

Jim was looking rather smug, his hands in his slacks and a cocky smile on his face. He was wearing a suit, a black one with a navy blue tie. His dark hair was slicked back and his dark eyes were endearing, mocking both Sherlock and John.

"What is he doing in your flat?" Sherlock growled, darting his iridescent eyes at Jane, who returned his curious look with a hard one.

"That's none of your business, Sherlock." Jane snapped, irritated.

"I simply came by to greet my _friend_." Jim shrugged innocently, plastering a fake smile on his mischievous face.

Sherlock's jaw clenched at the word. He didn't like how Jim was befriending his neighbor, much less putting on this ridiculous facade that Jane was falling for.

"Sherlock, John..." Jane said, a tight smile etched across her lips. "if you could both be so kind to _get out _of my apartment."

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but Jane held up an index finger, silencing him immediately.

"Get out, before I charge you both for trespassing." Jane threatened, her cold hard stare was demeaning.

John was quick to think and pulled a sullen Sherlock through the front door of 223B.

Jane turned to Jim, who's eyebrows were raised in an incredulous manner.

"Well, that certainly was quite a welcome." He chuckled lightly, turning to Jane, who was still frowning at her front door.

* * *

"Do you still think Moriarty isn't interested in her?" John queried, in a sarcastic drawl.

Sherlock stared at John, completely unamused.

"This is serious." Sherlock stated. "Jane is not intelligent enough to figure out that he's behind all these murders. She thinks that he is Molly's boyfriend."

"Then _do _something, Sherlock. He wouldn't have made you play all those twisted games and just move on!" John snapped, pacing back and forth in the little space of their living area.

It was unnerving to know that Moriarty was just next door, talking to their neighbor as if he was actually Jane Distel's friend. The fact that Jane is completely oblivious to it all just irritated both Sherlock and John even more. Surely, if they were to say that Jim's a criminal, Jane wouldn't believe such accusations. She already detests them both as it is.

"I'm going to speak to Lestrade." Sherlock stated, standing up and heading towards the door.

John didn't follow Sherlock, as he feared that if anything were to happen to Jane, Mrs Hudson or anyone else in the building, someone trustworthy and experienced would have to be there to take action.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder, staring at the his neighbor's door that read '223B' in gold metal letters. It wasn't silent, he could hear the muffled words of Jane and Jim.

As much as he wanted to just throw questions at Jim that very second, he knew he had to pretend to be distant and pretend not to care. He has done that so many times before, and Moriarty always came back. He always wanted to know what Sherlock was up to.

Sherlock kept wondering why Moriarty would bother to interact with the new member of Scotland Yard. Why would he pretended to have liked Molly and go out with her in the first place? Was it all part of his plan?

Moriarty always had a plan. Whatever he did, it was for his own benefit.

Moriarty could do anything he wanted and get away with it. He didn't even have to try, he just had his _people_.

Moriarty had Sebastian Moran, a trained sniper from the military. Sherlock had John Watson, a military doctor.

Both sociopaths had their military companions whom were intelligent enough to keep up with them. Except Sherlock found Moriarty to be uncharacteristically unpredictable. Sherlock always vaguely knew Moriarty's ideas. Not enough information to stop him, of course, but enough to always be there at the right time.

Jane Distel was somehow part of Moriarty's plan, whether she be a distraction or of useful help.

Sherlock sighed heavily, making his way down the stairs and out of the building. Looking left to right, waiting for a taxi to come into view, he just realized that in order to snivel information information about 'Jim' out of Jane, he'd have to befriend her. Jane could know something, she knows everything. She can't _forget_.

Jim was being awfully nice to Jane.

But Moriarty wasn't.


	18. Last Name

**I am back on Hiatus. Updates still won't be normal due to exams and catching up on schoolwork.  
Enjoy this short chapter.**

* * *

-Chapter 18-

"I'm sorry about that." Jane apologized sheepishly.

Jim smiled. "That's alright."

"Do you know him?" Jane queried.

They definitely had some sort of mutual connection. Sherlock absolutely did not like Jim one bit, if anything, Jane could have guessed that Sherlock purely despised him. But she didn't want to come to any conclusions without more evidence.

Jim shrugged. "Not really, met him a few times at Molly's workplace."

"Oh." Jane said, throwing a pillow to the opposite side of the chair.

"He never really liked me. I don't know why." Jim mused, and Jane noted that.

"He doesn't seem to like anybody." Jane rolled her eyes, lightening up the still-tense atmosphere in the room.

Jim plopped down on a couch, his legs crossed. To him, everything was like a game of chess. He can send out all his pawns just so the other can make their moves and over think all their moves. But Jim just wants to play. Oh, he cares about winning more than anything, but he wants to capture the king. He wants a _checkmate_.

But this time, it's not only the king that he's after.

He needs the queen.

* * *

"Calm down, Sherlock." John sighed, rubbing his temples.

Sherlock spun around, his eyes wild and unfocused. "Calm down? There is a murderer, a criminal psychopath, ten feet away and you want me to _calm down_?"

"We just need to think this through. Bursting in there was a mistake in the first place." John stated, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

Sherlock looked at John as if he was a child. "She could have been in trouble for all we know."

John didn't have a response for that statement. There really wasn't much that either of them could do at the moment. Jane was completely oblivious to Jim Moriarty's status and Sherlock is fairly certain that Lestrade must have mentioned Moriarty before. Why would Jane still be hanging around a dangerous man? That is, unless she doesn't even really know _who _he is.

She probably didn't know his last name.

She _still _doesn't know, Sherlock concluded, which was plainly obvious.

Someone has to tell her. Perhaps Sherlock could make Lestrade tell her. But that wouldn't help with the fact that Sherlock could use Jane as a great alibi or helper whenever he might need it. Maybe he should be the one to tell her, to give her the facts and to persuade her into thinking that he, Sherlock Holmes, really _is _a great guy.

But will she believe him?


	19. Important Notice, Guys

Hey guys! I know I haven't updated in a really long time, that's because I've changed accounts and some personal issues!

These stories will be continued in my other account: **Moriarty's Diary**

Follow me there and I will then proceed to write!

Thank you!

P.S. I'm sorry this isn't a new chapter, and it's an author's note, so, if any of the "Eliminators" find this message, just know that it will be deleted in a week or so.


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